Paper Plane
by Lady Lithe
Summary: It had been seven years since he last saw her…heard her…touched her…and now even his memory of her was slipping away from him.
1. Chapter 1: How Long Can You Remember

Paper Plane

By: Lady Lithe

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, which is copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and I'm not making any profit out of this except for creativity and distracting myself until the final Harry Potter comes out, so please don't sue.

Summary: After the Final Battle, Harry decides to leave everything behind. Ron, Hermione, Professor Lupin, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley...and Ginny. It's been seven years since then. Is Harry finally prepared to go home and face all that he had thrown away? And why had he left in the first place?

Naru-chan: Hi, hi! New fic! What fun. ;) Okay, the real reason why I wrote this was because I love Post-Hogwart fics where Harry disappears. So full of angst. But the thing is, all of those that I have read have been in _Ginny's_ point of view. So I thought, what would it be like if it were in Harry's point of view? I wanted to explore the reasons to why Harry would leave in the first place and how he dealt with those years away.

It's very interesting, to be inside of Harry, especially one that's older and darker than the young Harry we all know and love. For once, we get the other side of the story. I tried to do the plot justice, and I hope you agree.

And I'm working on my other stories!

* * *

Chapter One: How Long Can You Remember

_Sometimes I wonder. How long can you remember voices? I get worried and repeat it several times in my head. I can remember it; I can still remember it. But… what if I could never see her again? I wonder if it's the shape or the voice that lasts until the end._

_-Mayama, Honey and Clover_

It was a large gray room, with gray walls and a gray ceiling that seemed to stretch for miles. Perhaps it was because no posters or photographs donned the dreary room, no warm rugs or cheerful mats with corny quotes lay on the floor, or no little house-warming trinkets could be found anywhere. But here was an expensive silk dress, and there was a pair of black trousers with the fine leather belt still looped through the holes. If it hadn't been for the several articles of clothes that were strewn across the floor, torn off in a whirl of passion, one would have, no doubt, come to the conclusion that no one lived there at all. There was not much furniture either. An empty desk, aside from a few pieces of crumpled parchment and ruffled quills, a single drawer, and one lone large double bed was all that filled the nearly empty room.

And on this very bed, Harry Potter currently struggled to open his sleepy eyes. After this momentary battle, he found himself gazing at his bleak gray ceiling. He had moved into the apartment a while ago (when exactly, he no longer remembered – or cared), but he had not remodeled it. He hadn't made an effort at all.

He let out a soft sigh. He was so tired… When was the last time when he didn't feel the bonds of exhaustion tying him down? He stretched his long neck while reaching out to pick up his thin wire glasses and place them over his weary eyes.

He tilted his head and another sigh almost came out of him. Next to him was a gorgeous woman. She was as naked as he was, her long brunette hair curling against her pale body. He closed his eyes. Oh right, he recalled. This was the reason why he was tired. He always was after he was with another new one. Now what was this one's name? He mulled this over for a moment, but he didn't give this thought too much time before he just let it slip away into the many layers of his brain.

He supposed he needed to get up. But he did not. He could not feel it in him to. How long had it been since he last truly felt alive? He almost snorted sardonically at this thought. It was because it was so obvious. The last time he had felt alive was…when he had been home.

Shoving these unpleasant thoughts away, he busied himself by forcing his body to rise. The white blanket slid off his lean, pale body. Slipping on a white bathrobe, he leisurely traveled to his bathroom, idly kicking aside clothes that lay scattered in his path. He threw a casual glance at his appearance in the lengthy mirror in the bathroom. He was most certainly no longer the scrawny, underfed, and malnourished boy he used to be – the one that had been forced to wear unfitting, dirty, and torn garments. A twenty six year old Harry had replaced the eleven year old one. Indeed, he now ate the finest of foods and wore the nicest of clothes. His black hair, however, remained as unmanageable as ever. His long bangs fell over his half opened eyes and he absently attempted to flatten the black mass to no avail. There was a dark stubble on his face, which gave him a rather edgy look, but he simply shrugged and undressed.

He was very grateful when he entered the shower and felt hot, almost scathing water burn against his flesh. Only at times like this did he feel remotely animate anymore. It woke him up temporarily from what seemed like an endless dream – an endless nightmare.

He shut his dark, forest green eyes and ducked under the water, feeling the water wash over his handsomely rugged face and cause his thick, raven locks of hair to plaster against his pale skin.

"_Come on in!" her bubbly voice laughed, sounding like beautiful and familiar music. "The water's wonderful."_

He ran his hands through his hair. The water continued to pound against his vulnerable head.

_"Oh, don't be a prune," she scolded playfully. Her crimson tresses danced around her lovely face. "Water never hurt anyone!"_

He rubbed his hands over his frowning face as his head began to throb. Had her voice really been that high? Or had it been lower…? Husky yet sweet…yet…

_"You can do it, Harry," she encouraged softly as her rosy lips curled upward into a delightful smile. _

"I can't…" he mumbled, feeling the water drip over his open mouth.

_"You can do it…because I believe in you…"_ _her voice echoed...but it sounded a bit off, as if she was speaking at a great distance. And then she lifted her arms toward him while her gentle eyes…her gentle eyes…_

What color were her eyes?

Harry felt the panic pierce him sharply. Frantically his hands slammed the water shut and he stumbled out. Unconsciously grabbing and throwing his bathrobe back on, he raced, tripping and stumbling, into the bedroom. Throwing open his drawers hysterically, he began hurling objects out, not caring where they landed or what happened to them. His sole goal was to find it.

"Harry?" a drowsy voice called out from the bed, but he didn't hear. There was only the wild hammering of his heart.

"Where…where?" he moaned madly to himself.

"Harry, baby, what's wrong?" the woman asked, sitting up in the bed. She quietly and cautiously left the bed, wrapping the bed sheet around her thin body.

"WHERE IS IT_?" _he screamed, now tearing through his possessions like a man possessed.

"Harry!" she gasped, jumping back in fear.

"Oh Merlin…thank you…thank you…" He fell to his knees, clutching a single picture frame in his shaking hands.

The woman inched closer. Her dark, brown eyes curiously looked over his shoulder, and she gasped quietly at the photo. It was a young Harry Potter in a comfortable blue shirt. But this Harry wasn't looking at her. No, he was absorbed with the young girl donning a white sundress in his arms. When he thought she wasn't watching, he would gaze at her full of love. Framing her perfect face were her bright and brilliant crimson tresses, which the young Harry occasionally buried his face in. The young girl laughed at this, her cheeks splashed a happy pink, but hugged him tightly, enjoying the comfort of his closeness. Occasionally they would lean in and softly kiss one another.

This young Harry wasn't the Harry she knew – or rather the one she had met. For the Harry she knew of was the one whose name was constantly highlighted on every tabloid with the name of another random witch. The one in the picture wasn't the smooth man who had bought her a drink at the party, just like the thousands of other parties he always attends. It wasn't the quiet and mysterious man who had kissed her so passionately and ravaged her whole just the night before. It wasn't the man who had dark, clouded and lost eyes. And she couldn't help but wonder why.

"Who's that?" she heard herself ask. She immediately regretted her question because Harry's – the older Harry's – wet head spun around, his dark eyes flashed dangerously.

"Who said you could look?" he spat ferociously, stashing the frame away from her. "Just because you're here you think you can barge into my life and what? Thought you could get close to me – cure all the _dark_ scars of my past? Thought you could make the _famous_ Harry Potter fall in love with you?"

"I – I just," she stuttered, taking a step away.

"Get out."

"W-What?" she asked incredulously.

"**GET THE BLOODY HELL OUT**!" he roared. He wildly grabbed a mirror from the top of the drawer and heaved it at the wall next to her. It smashed with a piercing crash as she screamed shrilly. She frenetically grabbed her things and Apparated away.

Harry shakily took the picture out again. Her eyes…they were a warm, happy, dark chocolate. He let out an unsteady laugh. How could he have forgotten? He suddenly found himself blinking away hot tears as he fell to his knees.

It had been seven years since he last saw her…heard her…touched her…and now even his memory of her was slipping away from him.

* * *

Naru-chan: In case you haven't read my first A/N, I thought I'd repeat here that this was written to show Harry's point of view while he was away. On another note, I love memories...so expect them coming your way. Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter and what I have coming for you. I hope you'll enjoy discovering why he left in the first place.

Please review?


	2. Chapter 2: Throw It All Away

Paper Plane

By: Lady Lithe

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Naru-chan: Thank you all who reviewed!

* * *

Chapter Two: Throw It All Away

_Riding on these waves_

_Holding on to what you say_

_Everything will be okay; it will work out one way._

_But I've drifted way too far. My arms my legs have grown too tired _

_And could you be inspired – now I'm just tired._

_And on a swing you push me hard_

_So I'll come back to where you are._

_-Azure Ray, __The Drinks We Drank Last Night_

_"You're leaving."_

_It wasn't a question. It was an accusation. Harry shut his eyes and felt himself tense up._

_"You're really leaving…" Her voice was etched with sadness now._

_"Yes," he answered quietly, not facing her. Instead he remained where he was, his back turned to her and his head bowed over his packed trunk. He refused to look at her, but he knew that her head was probably raised, her chin high and firm. _

_"Why?" It was only one word but the hurt behind it tore through his heart._

_"I've just murdered several people. I think I deserve to go away," he heard himself snap. He didn't mean to. He didn't want to. But he simply felt it burst from inside of him._

_"That's a horrible excuse, Harry, and you know it," she whispered fiercely. _

_He shrugged._

_"But it's over…it's finally over. Two years – the two years of separation are over. We don't need to hide it anymore; we don't need to avoid each other. We can be together now. Harry…" her voice was soft…pleading. "Don't do this. Please."_

_"I need to," he replied, feeling his nails dig into his flesh as his hands balled into fists. He struggled to keep all emotion from his voice. He couldn't let her see how much he was hurting._

_"You don't need to do _anything_ anymore! Don't you see? You've come back to me… You're finally free from that prophecy!"_

_"Can't I just have some time to myself?" he cried out furiously, though he immediately regretted shouting. He swallowed hard. "I just want…to be alone. All my life I've had one goal. To kill the man who killed my parents. The man who took everything from me! And everyone has always expected me to do it! I've never really lived my life. I've never seen the world! For God's sake, I lived in a cupboard for ten years! I just…! I just don't know what I have to live for anymore…"_

_The silence hung heavily in the room._

_"So when you were with me, that's all you ever felt? My expectations of you, the great Harry Potter? And I…I'm not reason enough for you to stay?" her voice lowered and bordered on being accusing, but instead, there was only sorrow. _

_"That's not what I said," he said lamely. _

_"Fine. Go. I believe you deserve time alone more than anything, Harry. You deserve to…what was it again? Live. That's right. You deserve to live more than anyone else. And certainly I won't – I can't stop you."_

_"I…" He took in a shaky breath before he rose and turned to look at her. She stood, tall and strong as always at the door. Her red hair flamed down her back and framed her beautiful, yet pale face. Her eyes flamed with determination…and hurt, but she did not cry. He felt all the emotions inside of him jerking at him. Don't leave her. Don't do it._

_"But I will ask one thing. Do you still love me?" she asked, stepping forward so that they were looking into each other's eyes. Her dark, brown eyes searched his._

_"Ginny…" he said softly._

_She inhaled sharply. _

_"I see."_

_She turned away, and began to walk slowly towards the door._

_"Ginny…!" he called out to her helplessly again. He had to stop her! Grab her, hold her, kiss her! Let her know just how much he truly cared. If he didn't now he felt in his heart that he would never be able to again. But his limbs refused to move. She halted at the doorframe, her pale hand resting on the golden doorknob. "Come with me."_

_Inside he was screaming. Come with me! Don't let me leave alone! Tell me that you're not okay with this – that you need me. With you. That you can't live without me. That I can't live without you. Don't let me leave you. And he knew that he had no right to feel this way. That he had no right to ask this. But part of him hoped…that maybe she could be persuaded. He could see the two of them traveling together, being together, seeing the world. Together. _

_She took a deep breath._

_"No, Harry. I belong here. The war just ended, my family…" she stopped. "Just because the war is over doesn't mean that there isn't so much more that needs to be done. My services and needed here. And like you said you want to be alone. To find yourself. I'm not the type of girl drop everything for a boy. I won't let myself become one of those girls. No matter how much I love you…"_

_"Then…will you wait for me? I swear I'll –"_

_"Just…hurry up and find yourself Harry, because I don't know how much more waiting I can take."_

* * *

Harry woke up, drenched with cold sweat. He gasped for breath as he felt his heart slam against his rib cage. He held back a choked sob as he dragged his clammy hands through his dark hair. His eyes frantically flickered about the black room. There was yet another woman beside him, and though he didn't really care if he woke her, he wasn't in the mood for any questions. The only noises that could be heard were his shallow breathing and the pitter-patter of the rain on his single window.

Calming himself, he rose from the bed, not caring when the mattress made a soft creak. He felt the urge to light a cigarette. He hated the blasted things. He hated smoking. It didn't even calm his nerves. The gray, ghostly smoke that came from them sent chills down his spine, for it was slow and deadly. It reminded him too much of snakes. But what he liked was the smell. Or rather, he liked it because he hated it with a passion. The smoke would serpentine around his nose and the harsh, acid-like smoke would fill his lungs, burning his throat. He deserved that uncomforting feeling. It was almost like self-inflicted torture.

But now he sat there, staring out his window at the full moon that flooded white light into his room. He thought of Lupin, his old friend, who had gotten married to Tonks so long ago. He had received their overjoyed wedding invitation, but he had not attended. He was in Japan at the time, he recalled. He had wanted to attend so badly, but he didn't. He made good excuses of course. The Ministry of Magic at Japan just wouldn't let him go. Endless parties and interviews…it was his duty.

Bullshit. He had been much too afraid.

He had always meant to go back. Never had he had an ounce of doubt of returning, but as the days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years... it had become harder and harder to go back. It had never felt like it was the right time.

He wrote. Of course he wrote. But the letters were short and terse. He mostly only sent letters to Ron, Hermione, and Lupin. Ginny…it had been too hard to write to her. He had not wanted to even think about whether or not she would respond so he had refrained from doing so. It was one of the many, many things he regretted doing.

But now…he spent his days mindlessly. Woman after woman after woman. Name? Didn't matter. Intelligence? Didn't matter. Why? Because none of them mattered. They never had and they never would. He had known since the day that he left that there would only be one person for him, but at the time, he didn't want that. He didn't want to settle down so quickly and feel like he'd only known one thing. What if there was something else out there? What if there was something waiting for him? Well…now all he thought was what if there was nothing waiting for him if he went back?

Suddenly there was a flurry of white at his window and a pecking against the glass. Harry blinked, and almost smiled. He walked over and opened it, letting the glorious snowy owl enter and perch itself on his arm.

"Hey, there, girl," he cooed, stroking her wet feathers. "Where have you been? Do you have something for me?"

Hedwig hooted and lifted her leg. Harry untied the small letter attached to it and she flew over into her cage. Quietly he unfolded it. He hadn't been expecting anything. He hadn't sent anything out recently…

_Harry, _

_I'm pregnant and you're the godfather! Ron's a nervous wreck – he even tried to keep me from going to work! I need a steady mind to calm him down. Hurry your arse back here before your other best friend and my husband drives me mad! You've taken much too long! Come home, Harry… A seven-year banishment is long enough. And soon it's going to be Luna's wedding. We're all waiting for our best friend. So come home. Come home._

_Hermione_

Harry stared at it for a moment before he couldn't resist a laugh. Hermione was as forceful as ever. And pregnant! Blimey, it had taken long enough! He had been their witness when they eloped right before the Final Battle (which had of course driven Mrs. Weasley crazy). And now…after so long… they were having a baby and he was its godfather. He wiped away the tears he hadn't realized he had shed.

How long had it been since he had last seen or spoken to his best friends? And a child... A living, moving being, a combination of Ron and Hermione. A new life. A new hope. Maybe…maybe this was a sign. Maybe…

"Maybe it's time to go home…"

* * *

Naru-chan: Like? don't like? Criticism? Questions? All are welcome. Hopefully you did like it though. Review perhaps? And by the way - there's more to his leaving than just that. I just won't tell you yet.


	3. Chapter 3: Smile Like You Mean It

Paper Plane

By Lady Lithe

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in any way, shape, or form.

Naru-chan: Chapter three! Erm...yeah. Enjoy? And please tell me what you think! I love to hear back from all of you. :)

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Chapter Three: Smile Like You Mean It

_So she took her love for to gaze a while_

_Among the fields of barley,_

_In his arms she fell as her hair came down_

_Among the fields of gold._

_Will you stay with me, will you be my love_

_Among the fields of barley?_

_And you can tell the sun in his jealous sky_

_When we walked in fields of gold._

_I never made promises lightly,_

_There have been some that I've broken,_

_But I swear in the days still left_

_We'll walk in fields of gold,_

_We'll walk in fields of gold…_

_-Eva Cassidy, __Fields Of Gold_

_"Do you regret it?" Harry asked tentatively, touching her scarlet tresses gently. _

_The bright sun shined down on them, as if it were shielding them…comforting them. The Suffolk clouds moved against the azure sky leisurely. For this moment, they were away from everything. Here, in this tiny, secluded world they created, there was no war, no Voldemort, no sorrow. There was only happiness. Her eyelashes fluttered lazily and when she looked up at him, with her wide and lazy smile, he was amazed once again by her beauty. _

_"Silly," she laughed lightly, letting her head fall back down onto his bare chest. She spoke serenely as her fingers carelessly drew circles on it. "I don't regret a thing. I'm so happy. I've always known, I think, that it was going to be with you."_

_"Good…" he smiled, relieved. He tenderly pressed his lips against her head._

_"Why…do you regret it?" she hesitated, her fingers pausing in midcourse._

_"You must be crazy," he chuckled, taking her hand in his own and gently traced his thumb over it. He couldn't keep his eyes or his hands off her. "This is the happiest moment of my life. I'll never forget this."_

_"Then don't doubt me…and I won't doubt you."_

_She idly lifted her head and pressing her rosy lips against his. The light kiss deepened before they finally broke apart. He stared upward, feeling his heart beat hard in his chest as her long locks of hair spilled over her shoulder as she leaned over him in her glory. The sunlight sparkled above her, setting her scarlet hair aflame. He always had difficulty taking in just how stunning she was. _

_"Can you promise me something?" he asked her._

_"What's that?"_

_"Smile. No matter what, smile for me. It's the only thing I can look forward to. After all this is done and over with, you're all I have to look forward to."_

_"I will…if you promise me something in return," she whispered, smiling calmly, her warm, brown eyes gazing at him intensely._

_"Anything," he answered breathlessly, his fingers running up her back._

_"Promise me that I'll always be the only one for you."_

_"I promise," he whispered. He tangled his hands in her hair. She slowly leaned over, still smiling calmly, and kissed him again. "You'll always be my one and only. I'm yours, Ginny. I belong to you. You are my past, my present, my future."_

* * *

"Here you go, Mr. Potter. Welcome back," the man smiled amiably as he handed Harry his stamped passport. Harry's dark green eyes automatically scanned the man's face for something. Anything. Recognition, admiration, awe, anything. There was nothing. So Harry allowed himself to smile tightly in return. This man was a normal Muggle security man.

This was why Harry enjoyed traveling the Muggle way. Less staring, less hassle. Not that he could escape his fame long anyway. But he enjoyed being in the air, even if it was on a plane. Of course he loved _really_ flying much more, but it was painful now. The moment he was on a broom, feeling the sturdy wood on his fingers, feeling the wind freely push back his hair… he saw her. Sometimes she was wearing Quidditch robes; sometimes she was in plain Muggle clothes. He would remember her nimble body zipping past him, her head turning toward him and she would grin wickedly.

"Haven't been back for a while, have you?" the friendly man asked, smiling. Harry blinked, pulled back from his trance.

"Yes…it's good to be back," Harry answered weakly, not sure whether he was telling the truth or not. Taking his passport and slinging his bag over his shoulder, he began to walk away. He cautiously slipped his sunglasses (which he had a prescription with) on, though it was nighttime and he was still in the airport. Though he only wore a causal black turtleneck and coat over dark jeans, many women giggled as he walked by. He barely noticed.

The plane ride had given him time to think. He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. When he thought too much, his fear only grew. He hated remembering her, not simply because it was a bittersweet experience, but because each time he reached for a memory and relived it, each time it slowly would fade. Some days he couldn't even picture her face, couldn't hear her voice…

But the memory he had dreamed on the plane could never fade. He refused to let it slip away from him. Long ago, he had stored it in a Pensieve. He had stored every single one of his memories of her there. It was just that he rarely ever looked at them. It was too painful…to physically _be _there watching her and hearing her but not being able to touch or hold her. It was almost _too_ vivid. He could see her so clearly, but when he reached out to touch her…he remembered how undeniably fake it was.

He looked around him, surprised to find himself outside in the cold, London night. For a moment, he simply stood there, amidst the bustling and loud crowd. He took a deep breath. He was home. He was finally home.

Was this how the great Odysseus felt when he had returned home?

Harry didn't have much time to contemplate this thought as he struggled through the people around him. For a moment, he wondered where he was going and how he as going to get there, when everything suddenly went quiet and an enormous midnight blue bus zoomed toward him before instantly slowing in front of him. It was three stories tall with far too many windows.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus," a monotone voice greeted in by rote. Harry felt his lips curve upward as he remembered the first time he was on the bus. "Companion to any stranded witch or wizard."

"Hi Stan," Harry chuckled lightly. He would have expected Stan Shunpike to get another job after being released from Azkaban, but apparently not. Some things never changed. He felt his heart squeeze slightly.

"What did you say your name was?" the baffled man – his face still scattered with acne, leaned in closer to examine Harry.

"I didn't," Harry replied.

"Well, come on, I don't have all night," Stan grumbled, his narrow eyes searching the ground for Harry's trunk. He grimaced when he spotted it. "I'll get that. Come on then. What are you waiting for?"

"Okay," shrugged Harry, climbing onto the old bus as Stan once again struggled with his luggage. The Knight Bus hadn't changed one bit. Various beds were still scattered about and a heavy chandelier swing ominously above his head.

"Where are you going?" Stan wheezed.

"The Leaky Cauldron."

By the time he got there and was settled in his room, he let himself fall onto his bed and stare up at the ceiling. It had become a habit of his. Now that he had finally returned to London, the city he had dreamed of yet avoided for seven years, he needed to find a new place to live – a permanent one. He could always get a house with the money he had, but a flat would probably be best for now. He would have to get some money from his bank account. He would have to visit and congratulate Hermione and Ron of course. It would be great to see them again. Perhaps he would even go and buy himself a new broom. But all these thoughts were just to evade what he had to do the most.

He had to see Ginny.

He had thought he was as nervous as he could be when he started to pack. Apparently he was wrong. Very wrong. Being here – in London – so close to her just increased his anxiety. There were so many questions that had gone unanswered for years.

Seven years, with no excuse but that he was "looking for himself." But how could he explain to her what he didn't know himself? How could he justify a journey that, in a way, he was never quite sure why he had taken? After the war, everything had been such a blur. He had thought that when he left, things would get clearer, but they never did. Even at this very moment, nothing was clear to him…somewhere along the line he had given up hope of ever finding what he was looking for. So how could he come home without it? How could he face her empty handed?

And while he mulled over these torturous thoughts, only more doubts obscured his mind.

Was she…still waiting for him? She couldn't be. It wasn't possible. In her place, Harry would…he would have…he didn't know. He loved her so much that he knew he would not have been able to simply move on, but if he discovered that Ginny had decided to run away from him and date various other men (and this information being splashed over every tabloid available…), he would have…would have…

Had she moved on? Was she engaged? Married? Did she have children? He could see them now. Children – boys, all with red hair, freckles, and brown eyes, except for a girl and a boy with black hair and green eyes.

Harry rubbed his hands over his face. No, that wasn't right. That was just wishful thinking. Yet it was gut-wrenching to imagine them as anything else.

But if she did have children – even if they weren't his…he would still love them. He would not be able to help himself. They would be a part of her and Harry loved _all _of her. Even now. Every kiss, every touch, every blush, every laugh, every sweet smile…

He couldn't take it anymore. He had to do something – anything to keep him from thinking in these agonizing circles. He had learned to barely escape them by drowning himself in women…in liquor, but that wasn't possible here – not in London where she was so close.

He could visit Hermione and Ron. That was it! His two best friends. He smiled wistfully at the ceiling. They used to be the inseparable trio… He hoped things wouldn't change between them because of time or because Ron was Ginny's brother and Hermione was Ginny's best friend. But then again, he knew they would still welcome him with open arms. They had been there for him when he needed them most. They had been hurt from being abandoned by him, but they had each other and he knew that they would stay by his side no matter how foolish he had been.

Well, he would make everything up to them. He would stick around this time. The bond that they had would never be severed. Determined now, he rose from the bed. He had not told them he was coming back…he hadn't been too sure himself at the time if he really had the nerve to return. He had been pacing back and forth at the airport. But suddenly, just before the stewardess closed the gate, he jumped forward and rushed onto the plane before he had the sense to dash off. But he was here now. Perhaps he would surprise the two of them now. The thought brought a smile to his face. He didn't smile often anymore.

Without allowing himself another thought, he Apparated with a loud pop to the front of their flat. He paused for a moment as his old reflexes perked up. There had been a slight movement inside, but none of the lights were on. Perhaps Ron and Hermione were asleep already? Or perhaps they weren't home? Or perhaps they were… But he couldn't turn back without trying – not when he had come so far. Uncertainly, he lifted his hand to press the doorbell.

The door burst open as laughter erupted around him and poppers popped, showering him with a rainbow of confetti. His heart leapt up to his throat.

"CONGRATULATIONS!" a flurry of bright voices screamed and laughed, leaving Harry in a daze.

Abruptly the laughter died. Fourteen redheads, two blondes, one pink head, one brunette, and one sandy blonde were left gawking at Harry.

This was not the way Harry had wanted to let everyone know he was home.

But amidst this huge and eccentric crowd, Harry saw just one thing. She was right there. And she still took his breath away. The surge of longing was unmistakable. It was really her. If he reached out he could literally touch her. Her smooth, pale face, painted with freckles was older…but still amazing, and her ruby red hair that flowed over her willowy shoulder had not changed either. He longed to touch it again – to touch her again. He longed to reach out and grab her, holding her as closely to him as humanly possible. But he knew he couldn't because the thing he focused on the most made his heart lurch.

Her smile was frozen on her face.


	4. Chapter 4: Breaking For You

Paper Plane

By: Lady Lithe

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Naru-chan: Thanks everyone for the wonderful reviews! Sorry about the cliffhanger, but here is the next installment. I forgot to mention -- I began this story before DH came out so there's a lot that's not cannon, especially this chapter. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

Chapter Four: Breaking For You

_Love has ended for me… How can you stand beside me and pretend not to remember? Not to know that my heart is breaking for you? – __Wuthering Heights_

_Harry was exuberant. He dumped his belongings boisterously by the door and rushed around the bedroom. It was perfect. It was just large enough - nothing too big though. He flung open the pale curtains, letting the sunlight flood the room. The view was great. Just what he wanted! He could see the fluffy white clouds sailing over the bright sky. It was a sky like no other. It literally was tinted the color pink. It was like looking at the world through rose-colored glasses. Then if he looked down, he could see all the people walking and chatting. The boulevards were nothing less than beautiful._

_He shoved open the window and grinned as the wind breezed past him. He could smell the redolence in the air of fresh bread and coffee. They were calming scents, but it only made him more eager._

_This was a new place – a foreign place, but that only meant that he had to explore it until it was familiar. He could see himself settling here or coming back again and again. At this moment, he couldn't imagine anywhere else he wanted to be. _

_France was such a lovely place._

_His heart hammered in his chest with excitement. What should he do first? There was so much to do, so much to see. And the best part was that there was nothing he couldn't do. He had no chaperones. There was no danger. Only endless opportunities. And all of them were safe, worry-free, and normal. _

_"What should we do first, Gin-" he spun around happily, but then abruptly stopped._

_There was only silence._

* * *

His first impulse was to run. Run as fast and far as his legs could take him. His worst fear had come true. She didn't want to see him. She didn't want to see him at all. She wasn't smiling. He wasn't ready. He hadn't prepared himself well enough. This wasn't the right time. This deafening silence that had fallen over the stunned crowd unhinged him. He had to get the hell away from here.

But just as he was about to turn, there was another loud pop behind him.

"Ron, I told you that the tickets were–" a female voice halted abruptly.

"Blame it on Fred and George who –!" a masculine voice replied.

"Harry!"

He felt himself being spun around and arms wrap themselves around his neck. He let out a relieved laugh that somehow came out more like a strangled sob. At least Hermione was still the same. At least Hermione still wanted to see him. He clung onto her as if she were his last connection to sanity. He buried his face into her bushy brown hair, comforted by the familiar scent of parchment and ink that washed over him. And though he could feel her sobbing against him, he wasn't sure if he was holding her or if she was holding him.

"Blimey! Is that really you, Harry?" Ron spoke up in a choked voice filled with disbelief.

Harry slowly lifted his head to look over at his other best friend, whose cobalt eyes trembled. Harry hesitantly smiled before he nodded. Hermione detangled herself from him, still wiping her flushed face, to let Harry approach his tall, redheaded friend. They looked at each other for a moment, taking the other's appearance in. Harry could have sworn that Ron's eyes were watery, but he couldn't say much to his own defense either.

"It's good to see you," Ron said gruffly, grabbing Harry into a hug.

"It's good to be back," Harry answered. Ron…his first friend he made on the Hogwarts Express. His best friend. How could they have parted for so long?

"Harry!" a choked sob suddenly cried out from an openly weeping Mrs. Weasley, breaking the moment between Harry and Ron. Mr. Weasley patted her shoulder comfortingly, though he too sniffed loudly.

"Harry, mate!" George and Fred chorused with them.

"We've missed you Harry," Lupin spoke up, his kind and tired smile gracing his older face. Tonks (with her ever-pink hair) by his side, nodded in agreement. Harry took from their entwined arms that they had managed their relationship.

Soon the crowd of them surrounded Harry, welcoming all at once, and he almost felt like crying as they all welcomed him back as if he had never been gone. As if he was still a part of the Weasley family – the only family he had ever known.

Hesitantly, he slowly turned to look at her. His heart was beating so fast that it hurt as he took her in. The glossy crimson hair…the pale skin with its endless freckles…but he couldn't get enough. She didn't step forward toward him, but she didn't step away either. The look on her face was neither happy nor angry.

It was the look of a stranger.

"Hello Harry," was all she said. He felt the two words reverberate in his ears and he suddenly felt overwhelmed. Her voice. Sometime along the line his memory had slightly distorted it. It was lower…huskier…but the ringing softness and warmth was still there. He couldn't speak. He couldn't breathe. And the memories flooded him, as if the hermetic lid had been unsealed and nothing could stop it from overflowing.

_She pressed her feverish lips against his, not caring that she would taste blood. He could feel her tears flow down her cheeks onto his._

_"I love you," he croaked._

_She gave him a watery smile as she pushed away a stray lock of black hair._

_"I love you too, Harry."_

His daze, however, was broken when a sudden high-pitched voice asked, "Mum, is he _Harry Potter_?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh a bit breathlessly for he had been holding his breath without realizing it. He blinked away the tears that had formed near his eyes. He turned to where the voice came from. It was a small redheaded girl, her hair tied up in pigtails. But though her hair was the red, her face was smooth and pale, not covered with the famous Weasley freckles. Her eyes were a light, expressive blue. Harry kneeled down and smiled at her. She was definitely Bill and Fleur's daughter.

"Hi there," he said softly, holding out his hand, which she hesitantly took. "Yes, I am Harry Potter. What's your name?"

She blushed shyly and for a moment his heart clenched. She looked so much like a young Ginny…

"Ciel."

"It's nice to finally meet you, Ciel."

Then before he knew it, he was being dragged inside. He was amazed at the comfy home Ron and Hermione lived in. He momentarily paused at the fireplace. Pictures hung there. Pictures full of all the family, pictures of weddings past, pictures of the children. Pictures with Harry.

"We kept them of course."

Harry turned to this female voice. Hermione and Ron had walked up beside him. The three of them all looked at each other again, smiling timidly.

"It means a lot," Harry replied.

"I can't believe you actually came back. Why didn't you tell us you were coming?" Hermione asked, taking Harry's hand in her own. He smiled at this comforting gesture and squeezed hers gently. There was no bossiness in her voice as there used to be. He almost wished there was. He knew she didn't want to push him away before he had really arrived.

"I don't know why exactly," he explained softly and honestly. He turned his gaze over to Bill, who still had his long hair, and Fleur, who was still beautiful, as the two of them took care of their three children. "I wasn't sure I wanted to come back. But I didn't allow myself to think. And here I am."

"Are you…are you planning to stay?" she pressed hesitantly.

"I…" Harry trailed off. His eyes unconsciously scanned the room for a certain redhead. Her back was towards him in a corner as she spoke with Tonks. He was terribly conscious that she had not really spoken to him.

"I don't care whatever reason you're here, and I don't care that you didn't contact us before coming. Hell, I don't care that I haven't seen you in seven blasted years," Ron said fiercely, his hand on Harry's shoulder. It had been a long time since Harry had allowed himself to be touched without his verbal consent and it felt good. "What matters is that you're here now."

"Thanks, Ron," Harry said, and he meant it.

"Harry!" Fred grabbed the raven-haired young man around the shoulder and spun him around, away from Hermione and Ron. Harry couldn't help but smile as George looped an arm around his other shoulder.

"Sit!" George said.

"Drink," Fred lifted a cup to Harry's face, and Harry had a hunch it was something stronger than butterbeer.

"Eat," George held up a plate of food under Harry's nose. "Be merry!"

"You two haven't grown up a bit," Harry chuckled, and he was relieved for this fact. At least the two redheaded identical twins had not changed. They were still the fun-loving pranksters they had always been. "How's the shop going?"

"Great. Business is booming. We've opened two separate branches," George grinned.

"And none of it would have ever happened if it hadn't been for you," Fred nodded firmly. "We'll never forget that, Harry."

"It was nothing," Harry replied uncomfortably. "How many times do I have to tell you?"

"Visit us anytime."

"You know we're here for you."

Harry looked down at the floor.

"Even…" Fred said hesitantly.

"Even," George finished softly, patting Harry's shoulder.

Somehow Harry's eyes had trailed to Ginny's back.

The two of them left a Harry to chew over this as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley advanced toward him. They were visibly older, Harry noted sadly, with much more white hair laced in their vibrant red hair, but they still had their same warm and loving faces. He wondered for a moment if this was going to be awkward, but this thought was silenced when Mrs. Weasley grabbed him into a bear hug. He remembered now…the woman who had always been like a mother to him.

"Harry…" she pulled away, her eyes glistening with tears. "You're finally home."

"Our son has finally returned to us," Mr. Weasley smiled. A lump formed at Harry's throat at this comment. They had always treated him like their son.

"I can never replace him," Harry said gruffly. An image of the mangled body flashed in his mind. He hadn't been able to save him.

"No one can replace Percy," Mrs. Weasley said softly. But seven years has helped her accept the facts. And suddenly she looked so much older to him. "But no one can replace you either."

"It was never your fault," Mr. Weasley said. Harry recognized the old firmness in his voice. "So don't leave because of that."

"I don't intend for him to get away again," Mrs. Weasley stated resolutely as she sniffed. "You haven't been eating, have you? You're nothing but skin and bones!"

"I've been eating fine," Harry smiled warmly at her. "But I've missed your cooking dreadfully. No one's ever made Treacle Tarts like you have."

She blushed a rosy red with pleasure. She placed a hand on his arm. "You know you're welcome to come home to the Burrow anytime."

He swallowed hard and bowed his head. "Thank you."

"Our turn," chimed Charlie, with the brunette by his side, and a set of redheaded twins, one on his right and one on her left. He smiled at Harry as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley walked over to Ron and Hermione, who were being teased by the twins. "Welcome back."

"Charlie," Harry smiled in return.

"You haven't met my wife, have you?" he asked. The brunette smiled kindly. "This is Annie."

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," she said, shaking Harry's hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet the woman who finally got Charlie to settle down," he laughed. "Does he still chase dragons?"

"Yes," she giggled. "But he's much more careful now."

"And who are these two?" he smiled down at the twins. The two boys grinned back at him mischievously.

"I swear these little devils are the next Fred and George!" Charlie joked exasperatedly as he lifted the one closer to him. The little boy giggled at his father and only proceeded to yank on his father's hair. "Ow! This little guy's Ben."

"And this one's Matt," Annie said, ruffling the redhead by her side.

"We've heard all about you!" Ben stated, looking at Harry through his brown eyes.

"How you even battled a Hungarian Horntail!" Matt added. The two of them looked at Harry with eyes shining with respect.

"You're like Dad!"

"And no one else is like Dad! He's like the awesomest of the awesome! So you're like…whoa!"

"Don't mind these two," Charlie blushed as Harry laughed.

"But it's true!" Matt objected.

"Yeah! Auntie Ginny even said he had one tattooed on his chest!"

Harry's heart stopped at the mention of her name, even with the foreign title before it. His dark green eyes flickered around the room again.

"Did she?" he said, clearing his suddenly arid throat. A whole river wouldn't be able to quench his thirst.

"She was only kidding, silly," Annie pinched Ben's cheeks lightly.

"Come on, we better go congratulate Ron and Hermione," Charlie said. He smiled at Harry before they left. Harry ran a hand through his disheveled black hair and was just about to sigh when a voice behind him caused him to jump.

"Looking for her, are you?"

Luna Lovegood had materialized behind him. She handed him a butterbeer and as he calmed himself from being waylaid. He took it with a small, unsure smile. Luna hadn't changed at all. Even though she was getting married in a month, she still wore large vegetables as jewelry. Her wide, blue eyes still gazed through him dreamily.

"Hello, Harry," she said simply.

"Hi Luna," he answered. "Looking…for who?"

"Who else?" she said, a lazy smile stretched across her pale face as her wide eyes leisurely scanned his face. "You've changed Harry. You've fallen deeper haven't you? All this time, you've been the one going out and saving people. Now you're waiting for her save you."

"What are you talking about?" He wiped his damp hands over his trainers.

"Your eyes. They're darker than before. At first I didn't recognize you. But then again, she was always the light for you. Your eyes are still looking for her."

"How…how is she?" he asked uneasily as he took a swig of his drink. He didn't like it when Luna looked into him like that. He _quite_ disliked it, for it left him more shaken than he wanted to be, but he refrained himself from expressing this vexation. He felt the warm liquid flow down his dry throat, but it didn't warm him up like it used to. Instead, he simply felt cold. In a way, he didn't want to know the answer to his own question. He didn't want to know if she was still single or engaged or – he swallowed hard – married.

"Good," Luna answered vaguely, her wide blue eyes staring blankly ahead.

"Oh," he said. He felt a twinge of disappointment as this hazy answer.

"Everyone's so lovely here. One big family. Eric was accepted."

"Eric?" For a second, Harry panicked. This Eric wasn't Ginny's was he?

"My fiancée," she said, still smiling. "He writes for the Quibbler as well. He sees the Wisters too. You know, the creatures of the white and blue clan of Zutonsets."

Harry let his gaze travel around the warm and cozy room as Luna continued speaking. How was it that he had managed to stay away? Looking at his best friends'…first friends' faces brought back so many memories. It was good. It truly was good to be back. Even Luna's blather was welcoming.

And the Weasley family as a whole. They all wanted him back. That is, except Ginny. He knew she didn't want to speak to him. He knew that she just wanted him to just leave her life as it was. And he knew that the only reason she had even spoken to him was to show him that she could and that she wasn't bothered at the least by his reappearance. Maybe it was beyond his wildest dreams, but he still secretly hoped that she truly was. And he hoped that she really was bothered – because that would mean that there was still a tiny ounce of caring that she had for him. But it didn't look like it.

Then again, how could he blame her? He didn't deserve her anymore.

But that didn't change the fact that he still needed her.

Harry had learned over the years that he wasn't a very brave man. When it came to saving people and fighting demons like Voldemort, then yes, he did have courage. He always felt, in some way, that the lives he was protecting were more important than his own. In a heartbeat, he would risk his life for another's. But when it came to facing Ginny Weasley, the one that could hurt and destroy him more than any battle...

She was so close. Within his reach. Closer than she had been for years. But she was no longer his to touch. Was no longer his to hold.

He stared down at his butterbeer, wishing for some FireWhiskey. His murky reflection shined back at him in the gold and yellow drink, and he sighed.

He wanted to talk to her. He wanted to hear her voice again, even if for just a moment. He wanted to see her real brown eyes. He wanted...

His hand clenched over his drink. This wasn't about what _he_ wanted! His selfish wishes were the reason he was in this mess to begin with. If had taken the time to think about her wants, her wishes…he wouldn't be here now. However, if he didn't move forward, he would never go anywhere.

He took a huge swig of his drink, leaving it empty before he set it down on the table beside him.

"Excuse me," he muttered to Luna, who didn't very much mind being left, with his eyes set on a long mane of scarlet hair.

He bet she knew that he was coming, but she gave no sign of it. Instead, she continued to converse with Bill, who suddenly looked rather nervous at Harry's approach. He stopped right behind her, but she still continued to ignore him. His heart quivered. He prayed that this was going to go smoother than he could honestly hope for.

"Ginny. Can I talk to you?"

* * *

Naru-chan: ...And you thought the _last _cliffhanger was bad. Now I bet you all want to kill me. Well...don't or you'll never get the next chapter! :O So please review and tell me your thoughts! I love hearing from all of you! :)


	5. Chapter 5: Happily Ever After

Paper Plane

By: Lady Lithe

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Naru: I'm so sorry for the delay on all of my stories. I have no excuse except that I've just started college. I still have 100 intentions of finishing my stories. Thank you for sticking around!

* * *

Chapter Five: Happily Ever After

_So this is love, Mmmmmm  
So this is love  
So this is what makes life divine  
I'm all aglow, Mmmmmm  
And now I know  
The key to all heaven is mine_

_-Cinderella, __So This is Love_

"Ginny." Her name rolled off his tongue, so familiar, yet so foreign. His throat closed over, laced with panic. "Can I talk to you?"

Was it just Harry, or had the entire room suddenly get louder and quieter at the same time? A tense, buzzing silence stormed around him. Serpentine heat slithered up his neck, a mixture of anxiety and mortification. He wanted badly to tear his eyes away from her still body, but he could only gaze longingly, taking in that long, red hair he dreamt of. Bill quickly excused himself when she didn't respond right away.

Slowly, she turned to face him and his breath was taken away. Had it really been seven years? Had it really been that long? She still looked so young, and yet… Her striking face was so different, but he knew it well. His mind had traced and retraced those lines almost every day since they separated, but now it had changed. Her jaw was set, not indetermination, but grimness, her face was not as pale as before, and when — he thought with a pang in his heart — did she get that thin, white scar that ran down the side of her right cheek? He wanted to search her eyes, to try to find a fragment of the feelings she once offered him, but really the most he even hoped for was to see no shadow of hatred. But her brown eyes didn't look at him, they looked through him. There was no anger, no underlying bitterness, just a cheerless, mourning detachment.

"There's nothing left to talk about," she said quietly. His stomach lurched at the finality in her voice.

"I believe there is," he replied, trying to keep his voice steady. He had never expected her to make this easy. Yet hope could drive a man insane.

"I'm sorry, but you are mistaken." She sounded so tired. So very tired.

There was a flicker of hurt in Harry's eyes. This wasn't the Ginny he remembered, who was so full of life. Even _anger_ would be better than this…this weariness. She made a move to leave, and he instinctively took hold of her wrist.

"Gin—" She flinched at the usage of his old nickname for her "—don't use such formality with me."

"Let go of me," she said in a voice that was icy cold, but he could sense the underlying heat. Immediately he did as she asked, feeling his face flush when she cradled her wrist in her other hand. He hadn't meant to do that… He never, never meant to hurt her. But apparently, he thought painfully, that was all he ever did. She began to turn away again, and he felt his heart clench.

"_Please_…"

At this one pleading word, she stopped and sighed, her shoulder sagging with reluctant defeat. He could see the resignation on her face and the weariness in her eyes that made her look twenty years older. It hurt that he was the cause.

"Fine, but not now, not here. Tonight is Ron and Hermione's night. We will not disrupt it," Ginny said before pausing. Harry glanced around nervously. He had quite forgotten about the audience that was studiously attempting to ignore this exchange. "And I need some time to think."

"How long?" he asked, trying to quell the desperation that clawed at him.

"Soon." She probably sensed his uncertainty because she added, "You don't need to worry. I always keep my word."

And he could only watch her go, her scarlet hair dancing after her to a song he once knew. He didn't have the right to stop her. Because he knew that she did keep her promises. It was he who didn't.

* * *

It was hard to be in the same city as the one he loved, not knowing when the next time they spoke would be. Being so close to her and yet so very far away intensified his torment. He spent days and days lying on his bed, listening to the clock _tick tock tick tock _his life away, just waiting for something — an owl or a note or a knock on the door to make sure he hadn't fabricated his short exchange with her. It wasn't like before, when he could distract himself with bustling parties and functions without worrying if she would appear at his door. He forgot to shave or cut his hair or even eat sometimes. At nights, he could barely sleep, twisting and turning as more memories plagued his mind, lost between the portal of the past and the future. Limbo. Waiting for heaven when surely what awaited him was hell.

Only when Ron or Hermione came over and forced him to _do something_ to keep himself occupied did he manage to pull himself out, if only for a little while. There were lapses, but they were always there. Sometimes he searched apartments, but nothing that turned up suited him. Of course the salesmen, once they realized who he was, tried to get him to look at lush, expensive places that only irritated him, so he usually wound up throwing an angry fit before leaving. And…maybe, subconsciously he didn't want to choose an apartment just yet. Not alone. Not yet another empty, austere apartment where no one would welcome him home.

Other times he usually spent with Hermione and Ron. Those were the rare periods that he could nearly successfully push Ginny from his mind. Whenever they could drag him out, he would find himself in their home, playing chess with Ron or helping Hermione in the kitchen. He loved being inside their cozy home, though it caused twinges of envy in his heart.

But, watching them, Harry realized all over again how much they loved one another, how much they deserved each other, and just how much he had missed his two best friends over the years. He had forgotten that Hermione tugged on her frizzy curls when anxious or that she was always forgetting about the ink smudges on her hands. He had forgotten how strategic Ron could be, or just how dense, or just how funny and understanding. And it was nice to know that his ears still turned red whenever he was embarrassed.

Only, he couldn't help wondering sometimes what his relationship with Ginny would be if he had stayed, and usually Ron and Hermione had to shake him from his daze, worried looks etched on their faces.

He had visited the Burrow, but only after Ron and Hermione had convinced him that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley did not, as Ron eloquently put it, hate his bloody guts. In fact, Hermione had informed him, they very much wanted him to visit. With much weak arguing (because really, he did want to see them and the Burrow again), Harry was dragged into the shower and made presentable by Ron as Hermione did his laundry.

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the Burrow alone. Hermione had owled ahead and Mrs. Weasley was expecting him, but he took time to calm his nerves by staring at the one place he had ever considered a home. It was still oddly angled, as if it were about to topple over any minute, but it looked so very welcoming.

Hesitating, Harry rapped his white knuckles against the door. He shifted in his feet and tried to flatten his messy hair one more time as an apprehensive feeling swelled within him. What if Ginny still lived here? Ron and Hermione had not mentioned anything. Would she perceive his presence as pushy, not giving her the space she had requested? He licked his dry lips, feeling them crack beneath his tongue. She said she wanted some time. He could give her time. He could wait a lifetime. But it was still a living hell, because even returning to his old home could not erase the hollow void inside of him.

"Harry!" an overjoyed voice cried into his ear as he was enveloped by Mrs. Weasley. After she had crushed about two of his ribs, she pulled away and looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

"Mrs. Weasley!" Harry blinked in distress. He hadn't meant to make her _cry! _

"Oh, ha ha, silly me," she laughed, quickly turning around and wiping her eyes hastily. She waved her hands quickly over her face. "Don't mind me, dear."

Oh no, he thought with a sinking stomach. She didn't want him here. To him, she was still…

"Should I leave?" he asked, his head bowed.

"_No! _No, it's just —" she suddenly sniffed loudly. "My children have grown up and left home, and I…I never thought I would see you here again… It was so long and I—Oh, I'm just being silly!"

Harry watched her turned back as a saturnine cloud hung over his heart. "I'm…sorry. I never meant…"

"I know," she said soothingly, facing him once again. Her face, lined with unfamiliar wrinkles, was a bit red, but the kindness that he had once seen as a lost ten-year old boy was as strong as ever. "You have your reasons… Now, don't mind me, I'll just go and tidy myself up. You go ahead and make yourself at home. After all…this _is _your home, Harry."

"Mrs. Weasley…"

"You are always welcome here." She patted his cheek affectionately.

"Thank you." It was barely above a whisper.

Harry watched her silently as she turned and began trotting up the winding stairs.

"Mrs. Weasley?" He hadn't realized that he cried out until he saw her brown eyes watching him. Underneath her steady stare, his pale face flushed as he stared at his shoes intently. "D-Does Ginny still…live here?"

There was a silent beat. He chanced a glance up, only to find her gazing at him tenderly, a sad, sympathetic smile on her face. "No, Harry, I'm afraid not. My little Ginny… She has grown up."

He concentrated on the floor, nodding stiffly. "Right. Of course."

Without another word, she continued up the stairs.

Harry leaned against a wall, breathing shallowly, trying to calm himself. So Ginny no longer lived here. He was relieved. And achingly disappointed. She was already twenty-three_,_ he berated himself. Of course she'd have left home. He slumped. Grown up, what could those words mean? That she no longer carried a torch for her childhood crush? That she had moved on? He shoved these dark thoughts away and tried to take in the environment around him.

He forced himself to move, his fingers tracing against the old, warm walls.

Home. The word meant so much more than before. As time had lapsed, others words and events had altered the seemingly harmless word. Where was his home? Here? The Burrow? His dark forest green eyes traveled across the living room and his heart squeezed painfully. The old, familiar scent of leaves and freshly baked bread floated in the air, lingering with…what was it?

Flowers.

"_Have you ever heard of a brush, Harry Potter?" her thrilling voice laughed._

There. He could see her…faded, almost like a ghost in the sunlight, sitting on the couch with her one leg propped upward and the other dangling toward the floor. He couldn't breathe, scared that if he so much as blinked, she would vanish into thin air. She pushed the scarlet veil of hair away from her face as she adjusted the book held on her lap. Then, as if feeling his eyes on her, she looked up directly at him. Her brown eyes narrowed slightly with warmth as she smiled at him. She looked as if she was going to rise and touch him, just when he thought she would, she faded away.

_"What are…"_

He turned sharply toward the echo of her voice.

By the window, leaning against the pane, she was staring out into the clear blue sky…but that day she had been staring out as the snow fell. She suddenly opened her mouth and a muted song escaped from her lips, like an old movie without sound. He remembered that Christmas Eve, remembered her sweet song. But Harry couldn't hear it anymore.

_"What are you doing…"_

He didn't want to remember this. He didn't want to hear this. The scent was both dizzily intoxicating and nauseating, and he hastily lurched back out through the kitchen, where even more images of her haunted him. She was everywhere! Washing the dishes, eating porridge at the table, pinning up a photo, tying up her hair, running toward him with that blazed look in her eyes, throwing invisible arms around him… Finally, he made it out to the porch, heaving while clutching his rolling stomach. His blurry vision slowly sharpened. Then…his heart pounding, he saw the spot where he had sat years ago.

And he was lost.

_"What are you doing all alone over here?"_

_Harry sighed though he smiled wryly. He didn't rise from his seat on the Weasley porch. Instead he half twisted his body to watch her coming over to him. She was like a vision, as always, with her hair spilling down her back in curls. The golden dress fit her body like a dream. Still, he knew she'd prefer to be in jeans and her favorite jumper any day._

_At first he hadn't known how to face her after their breakup at Dumbledore's funeral, but Ginny had acted as if nothing had changed. At least, he thought to himself, she didn't loathe his very being. Then again, he never really expected her to. Although she didn't agree with his decision of leaving her behind, she had always understood his mission. She knew that destroying Voldemort was something he had to do. He also had an inkling that she wasn't going to allow him to force her to stay at Hogwarts. But at this moment, he didn't feel like fighting, so he didn't speak of it._

_"Just thinking," Harry said as she settled beside him, wrapping her arms around her knees. The glow of all the lights reflected beautifully against her._

_"About what?" Ginny asked, slipping her warm hand into his. He felt his pulse jump and his cheeks glow with warmth. Her hand fit like a glove. Idly, he wondered if any other hand ever would like this. Cho's had always been too small and wet._

_"About…us," he admitted honestly, though this honesty caused chaos inside of him. She waited for him to elaborate, so he tensely did. "About if I'll ever…have a wedding. If you… I couldn't help it. Watching everyone here, so happy, it's like a dream. And I'm scared that I'm going to wake up to a nightmare. It's so…delicate. Everything seems so perfect. I feel…I feel as if it will fall apart any second now because it's not meant to be perfect."_

_She squeezed his hand gently, but she didn't look at him. She continued to look straight ahead. People were dancing and laughing. Fred and George were busy, smashing wedding cake into each other's faces, much to Mrs. Weasley's distain. "You'll come back when it's over."_

_"Ginny…" Harry whispered weakly. _

_"I know it," she said fiercely. "After you've destroyed him, you'll come back. You'll come back to me. Won't you, Harry?"_

_"Ginny, listen. If I don't –"_

_"You will."_

_"If I don't," he pressed before taking a deep breath, his hand trembling in hers, "then you have to find someone else. I couldn't live with myself if you… You have to be happy."_

_"No."_

_"Ginny…"_

_"No, Harry, because _you will come back to me_. I've waited and loved you for too long. You _will _return, Harry. I know it."_

_He closed his eyes, his heart in his throat. With her here, by his side, maybe, just maybe he could believe. Even if for just a second, even if he were to wake from this dream at any given moment. He squeezed her hand tightly. He never wanted to let go. "Of course."_

_"And there will be another wonderful Weasley wedding." There was absolutely no doubt in her voice. It was so sure…so strong… How could she be so certain, he couldn't help but wonder. _

_"Of course." _

_"And everyone will be here, happy all over again, except happier. Everyone will be laughing and smiling without a worry in the world anymore." She continued to stare forward as Ron awkwardly asked Hermione if she wouldn't mind dancing with him. Hermione blushingly replied that she would be more than happy to._

_"Of course." _

_"And I'll be the bride."_

_"Of course," he choked, blinking back the tears that burned like fire at his emerald eyes. He could see it. He could see it all. Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys, and most importantly, her. It was so bittersweet because it was all he wanted, but what he could lose in an instant._

_"And you'll be my groom."_

_"Of course…"_

_"And we'll all live happily after."_

"_Of course, Ginny." Hot tears rolled down his cheeks. "Of course."_

"Harry? Are you all right, dear?" Mrs. Weasley's voice trailed in from a far distance. He would have missed it if it hadn't been for the hand that gently shook him. He turned toward her, surprised and shocked, though not really, because he was absolutely numb.

"Mrs. Weasley?" Harry choked.

"I've been calling out for you once I didn't find you," she said softly, still watching him kindly. There was a saturnine look in her eyes. "Honey…you're…"

"I…?" he asked numbly. Slowly, he lifted his hand and touched his cheek. When he pulled it away, he could see the drops of water clinging to his fingers.

He was sitting in the same exact spot as he had years ago.

"Shh… It's all right Harry," Mrs. Weasley comforted him as she embraced him. It had been so long since someone had hugged him like this… It made him think about the night of the Triwizard Tournament. That only made things worse. Harry let out a strangled sob and clutched her closer as she continued whispering words of condolence. "You're here now. Everything will be fine."

But Harry had learned long, long ago that hopes and dreams don't always come true, and happily ever after didn't exist.

And the thought hurt so much more than he could imagine, so he simply hugged the woman he had always wanted to be his substitute of a mother and cried.

* * *

After the episode at the Burrow, Harry locked himself in his room above the Leaky Cauldron once more. Only after much coaxing and arguing did he, several days later, emerge from his room a complete wreck. Ron and Hermione took to patiently keeping him company, even when he didn't want it. But it helped because at least he wasn't haunted by old memories of her when they were close by.

Finally, he ventured out to Diagon Alley. Several times Harry paid his dues to the infamous Weasley duo in their thriving joke store. It was always fun to see them in their crazy shop, doing what they were always brilliant at and had always loved doing. The amount of children and adults in the shop had initially been rather shocking. He had barely been able to get inside. Sometimes it was depressing to see so many happy people, but the twins kept him busy, and that melancholy would lighten.

However, his visits had never been on Tuesdays or Thursdays. Fred and George had insisted that, while they loved Harry dearly, the shop was extremely busy on those two days. Harry accepted this without question, and while it perhaps had a bit of truth in it, he supposed that these two days were also days that a certain Weasley gave them a helping hand.

No one seemed to want to talk to him about her.

At first, it left him anxious. Was there something they didn't want him to know? Or was it perhaps some_one_ that they didn't want him to know about? Familiar images of Ginny wrapped around a faceless man haunted his mind. But still, he didn't want to pry anything out of them unwillingly, and he was sure that sooner or later, he would find out. Harry most certainly didn't want Ginny to get the impression that he was drilling her close friends and family about her love life, so he kept all his worries and doubts to himself. He didn't bring her up unless it was just a casual mention, which was usually—and irritably—returned with an equally casual comment.

It didn't help that after all this time, still no word came from her about their agreed talk. No owls, no notes, no message from one of the Weasleys or Hermione… He began to wonder if she even planned to talk to him at all. Then he remembered her words and he would suppress any horrible uncertainties. But the passing days made it harder and harder to do so.

It wasn't until seven weeks of agony did his impatience, curiosity, and fear finally get the better of him.

He had been sitting at Ron and Hermione's kitchen table as Ron's knight sliced his bishop's head off before raising its sword and waving it triumphantly in the air. Ron completely missed his best friend's glare as he looked up to see his wife clamoring out of their bedroom. He watched her bob of curly cinnamon hair bounce about affectionately.

"Are you going out?" he asked as she nosily searched a closet for shoes.

"That's right," came her muffled reply. She was now buried under several large coats. "Have you seen my black shoes? The ones with the white stripes?"

"Erm," Ron uttered, a look of deep concentration covering his face. "The ones you wore two weeks ago? I think I last saw them on the second row."

"Ah, thank you, love!"

"Who are you meeting?" he asked, his blue eyes scanning the chessboard for his next brilliant move.

"Oh—you know. A colleague from work," Hermione said offhandedly. Her voice sounded casual. Too casual.

"It's Ginny, isn't it?" Harry said quietly, glowering at the chessboard while furiously sending his queen to her death simultaneously. Ron's hand faltered though, just as Hermione's back went rigid. "You don't have to hide it."

"I'm not hiding anything, Harry," Hermione answered stiffly as she turned toward the two. Her face was flushed a guilty red, but there was a definite firmness in her eyes.

"Oh yes, and the fact that none of you talk about her around me is a total and utter coincidence, isn't it?" He scrubbed his face aggressively, feeling his 5 P.M. shadow rub against his palm.

"Harry —" Ron began.

"Just tell me, is it for her sake or mine?" Harry inquired bitterly.

"Calm down," Hermione replied evenly. "It's not for her or for your sake. It's for everyone's. In case you're wondering, none of us talk about her to you because we feel that it isn't our business. It's both of yours. And quite frankly, we want nothing to do with it. We love you both too much to get involved in this mess."

"Yeah," Harry snorted, "the mess that _I _made."

"We're not going to take sides, Harry," Ron said, his blue eyes now watching his best mate.

"Well you should!" Harry burst, slamming a frustrated hand against the table. His dark green eyes flashed with pain and resentment. "Because it's bloody obvious that _I'm _wrong! Come on! Say it! _I'm _the one who left _her _behind like the bloody fool I am! I ruined **EVERYTHING!**I kept her waiting for so long… Just say it…"

The silence stretched in the room was deafening.

"Could you…could you just tell me," he said softly, swallowing hard and bracing himself for the worst. "I won't ask anything else if you don't want me to. I won't even mention her again! Just… Is she seeing someone?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks, and for a moment Harry's stomach twisted into a tight knot that he feared would never loosen, but finally she said, "No, Harry."

He was washed with a muddle of relief, happiness, and guilt.

"But…" Ron spoke up, his steely gaze locked on the chessboard again. At this moment, he wasn't just Harry's best friend. He was Ginny's older, loving brother. And with determined concentration, he moved his bishop. "I don't think she's waiting anymore."

Harry stared blankly at the board, at the move, and smiled dully.

"Checkmate."


End file.
